From: tony
To: Daniel Gould
Date: Saturday, November 16, 2002 11:17 PM
Subject: dream
I go crazy at the airport check-in desk and run away, pelting into the
town. In an industrial slum I seek refuge in a third-floor tenement
room. The police come after me, charging up the stairs. They
recognize me from the bar where I was riding my bicycle on the tables,
from the house party where the ocean was electric pink, and
screensavers, made of tendril fire, bloomed on the ground like ferns.
I take some Elmer's Glue and squirt it on the police as they're coming
up the dilapidated stairwell. A helpful woman, with a tone in her
voice that suggests she's seen all this before, tells me, "Hey, that's
assault, you know."
Assault? Carrying a big, black cloth, three cops hit me and I go down,
wrapped in the fabric.
I wake up in the same room, but the door is barricaded. I try to get
it open, and then the guards outside let it open, and there's a kind of
customer-service desk out there.
"I'd like to get out of here," I say to the Indian man behind the desk.
"You have option number one, or option number two. You must write a
letter to copper."
[it's a trick, it has to be a trick... I'll write a letter to copper
and they'll say See, he's crazy, he writes letters to the elements...}
"I'm sorry," I say, "but I cannot write a letter to a metal."
"Then we will burn you." A fat, Russian-looking woman begins to heat
up a soldering iron.
__________________________________________________________
Tony Smith, Head Research Fellow, flipLab Research
"Ye shall see the truth, yet be unconvinced."